


A Heart to Love. A Heart to Give. In My Heart, You’ll Always Live.

by agoddamnsupernova



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Drabbles, F/F, I’ll never not be salty about Tara, rositara - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:01:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23525035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoddamnsupernova/pseuds/agoddamnsupernova
Summary: I got inspired by some headcanons done by bringmecoffeeandroses on tumblr.
Relationships: Tara Chambler/Rosita Espinosa
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Once a Knight

**Author's Note:**

> Who’s the knight and who’s the princess?

“Your Highness, you know you shouldn’t be out here,” Tara sighs softly, an amused smile on her face. “Captain Grimes will just take you back to the palace if he sees you.”

“Tara, you know I hate it when you refer to me by a title,” Rosita says in the same tone the knight had used. “I am not just your princess.”

“Perhaps not,” Tara muses, poking at Rosita’s thigh. “But we both know your father would not approve of us.”

Tara needs to find something to do with her hands to hide the fact that they’re shaking, so she grabs one of the daggers she had been working on and makes her way to the grinder.

Rosita lets her work for a few moments, allowing the knight a fraction of peace before she interrupts. “Tara, you know I don’t care what my father thinks.”

Tara stays silent, skilled hands sharpening the blade methodically. Of course she knew the princess cared not of tradition and law. The same tradition and law that Tara had been raised to protect and enforce. The same expectations she felt guilty about going against. 

“Tara, look at me,” the princess says softly, her fingers brushing against Tara’s shoulders. The action causes Tara to jump and send the dagger she was working on to the ground. 

Tara ignores the blood on her hand as she turns around to face the woman she can’t help but to love. It’s more painful than the cut anyway. “And what of the man you’re betrothed to? What of Prince Abraham of Ford?”

“What of him?” Rosita scoffs, taking Tara’s hand into her own to inspect the wound. “If you would just run away with me, nothing else would matter.”

“But my love,” Tara starts softly, her heart pounding in her chest as Rosita rips a length of fabric from her dress. “I could never give you a life like you deserve.”

“And  _ what  _ exactly does that mean?” The princess asks as she ties the makeshift bandage tight with a little more force than necessary. 

“We would be living off the land until we made it far enough away,” Tara sighs, wincing at the throbbing of her hand. “And even then we wouldn’t be living in the lap of luxury.”

Rosita is quiet, but Tara can all but feel the irritation rolling off of her beloved. It’s terrifying. 

“Do you think I care about any of that?” Rosita growls, balling her hands into fists. “Do you think any of that  _ really  _ matters?”

Tara knows better than to answer either question, knows to let this anger burn itself out. “I could not give two shits about any of that!”

“I don’t need a palace with servants that feel more like jail keepers. I don’t need a table full of food that goes to waste,” Rosita rants, her feet carrying her across Tara’s quarters. “Do you know what I need!”

Tara blinks as the princess comes to a stop, face flush and chest rising quickly. “I need you, you clod!”

The knight’s face goes red as Rosita stalks toward her. “I-I’m sorry,” she stutters out as her princess stops a few inches in front of her. 

“I just need you,” Rosita whispers before her lips are crushing against Tara’s own. 

Tara reacts instantly, threading her good hand into dark tresses while her injured one pulls Rosita closer by the hip. 

How could she have been so foolish? They could do this. They had to.

* * *

“Good morning, your highness,” Tara chuckles softly as she settles down on the bed, a tray of food in her hands. “I’ve brought your favorite.”

“I have not been royalty for many a year, wife,” Rosita yawns, sitting up slowly, her rounded belly making the process harder. 

“You’ll always be my queen,” Tara grins, balancing the tray on her knee to help her wife sit up. “And our daughter, my princess.”

“I’m still not sure that mage didn’t get the spell wrong,” Rosita hums, smiling warmly as Tara rests the tray on her lap. “I still think we have a prince.”

“No matter,” the former knight shrugs, leaning down to kiss Rosita’s stomach. “I’ll protect them with my life.” 

Rosita giggles softly, brushing her fingers through Tara’s cropped hair. She had to admit that she loved how much her wife had bloomed into herself over the years. “Once a knight, always a knight.”

“Only for my family,” Tara hums, sitting back up to press a kiss to Rosita’s lips. “Now eat, I have to head down to the stables.”

“Be safe,” Rosita says softly, squeezing Tara’s calloused hand. 

“Always, my love.”

  
  
  



	2. A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rosita’s hunt doesn’t go as planned.

Rosita runs as fast as she can without disturbing the underbrush. She had to hurry, she was losing the trail. She needed to catch this stupid wolf before sunrise or face another night of trying to keep fucking livestock safe. “Never should have taken a case in bumfuck Georgia.”

“I could be in the lap of luxury, pretending to be an upper east sider,” she grumbles. “Infiltrating a vampire nest.”

“But no, I’m sweating my ass off for some fucking cows and a deer!” She hisses, blinking the sun from her eyes. “FUCK!”

“You okay?” A voice calls out a few yards to her right. “It’s pretty easy to get lost in these swamps.”

“I’m fuckin’ fine,” Rosita says back, throwing her pack to the ground. 

“No need to be rude,” the voice says back and Rosita picks up the distinct sound of footsteps approaching. She could not deal with some backwoods asshole right now.

She opens her mouth to shout again before her senses kick in. There was no way that a human was just put in the swamp at six in the morning, this  _ had  _ to be her wolf. “Look, I’m sorry, it’s been a long night.”

“I bet,” the voice replies, scarily close now. “Tracking me must have taken it out of you.”

Rosita whips around, eyes wide as they land on the naked woman before her. She can’t help the way her eyes travel over tanned, taunt muscle. She catches scars that look like another wolf had attacked the woman. 

“See something you like, hunter?” The wolf smirks, clearly confident in this state. 

“Fuck off,” Rosita growls, reaching for the gun on her holster.

“Woah there, hunter,” the woman says calmly. “You can’t just go shooting the sheriff’s daughter. He didn’t have very happy words for the last one of you that did.”

Rosita pauses, brow furrowed. “Wait, another hunter had been here? When?”

“I don’t know, around ten years ago maybe,” the wolf shrugs, scratching the back of her head. “I was like twelve.”

Rosita opens her mouth, intending to voice her shock of a twelve year old being shot when another voice rings out, gravelly and deep. “Tara!”

Tara grins, head turning toward the sound. “Over here dad! I’m okay!” 

There’s a symphony of heavy steps through the undergrowth before a tall, slim man makes his way into the clearing. “Got your clothes.”

Tara takes the sack that the man tosses her and quickly pulls on a tank top and shorts while he stares at Rosita. “Who’s your friend?”

“Didn’t get her name actually,” Tara shrugs, slipping on a pair of battered tennis shoes. “Ma making breakfast? I’m starving.”

Rosita finds that somewhat hard to believe after seeing the mutilated deer left in the swamp but doesn’t say anything. “I should go.”

“Nah, why don’t you come eat with us,” the man says, his tone suggesting that it was not a question, but a demand. 

“Right,” Rosita sighs, leaning down to grab her things, the man’s gaze glued to her. “Rosita,” she says despite herself. “My name, I mean.”

“Cool,” Tara smiles, stretching her arms above her head. Rosita can hear the way her joints pop and crackle. “Let’s get going then.”

Rosita is shocked at how nonchalant Tara is about the whole situation, how she seems oblivious to the rage her father feels for Rosita. Perhaps she was. 

“So, you’re the sheriff then?” Rosita asks awkwardly as they fall into step behind the young werewolf. 

“Sheriff Rick Grimes,” he states, authority seeping into his tone. “And I don’t take too kindly to strangers threatening my kid.”

“Look man,” Rosita snaps, cutting her gaze to the girl in front of them. “I just took the job, I didn’t know I would find  _ her _ of all things when I went tracking last night.”

“It’s the fact that you were tracking at all that makes me uncomfortable,” Rick growls lowly. “No one has said shit in the ten years I’ve had Tara in my care and now suddenly you show up.”

“Listen, I was just given a place and a species,” the hunter says, shaking her head a bit. She knew where this was going. “I don’t know who alerted the council.”

Rick huffs softly but his whole demeanor changes once Tara’s feet hit plush green grass in front of a decent sized off white house. He seems to relax (almost) completely. 

“You have wards around the house,” Rosita comments, noting the literal change in atmosphere around the property.

“Rick!” A woman’s voice shouts from the house. “Rick! The intruder light is on!” The woman yells before the front door is slamming open.

The slim woman, dressed in a nightgown, Agnes with a shotgun freezes when she sees them, her cheeks red. “Oh, you know.”

“Lori, this is Rosita,” Rick says, clapping the hunter’s shoulder. “She stumbled upon Tara this morning.”

Lori nods, stowing the fun back inside. “You brought a hunter for breakfast.”

“I’m hoping she’s different,” Rick replies with a shrug of his shoulder. “Besides, Tara seems to like her enough.”

“Tara likes your cousin Daryl,” Lori chuckles as she walks them in. “Doesn’t mean I like him over for dinner without Carol.”

“Hush now,” Rick hums, patting a lounging Tara on the head as he walks by. “We have a guest.”

Rosita stands in the foyer awkwardly, her bag hanging off her shoulder. What was happening?

“You might want to sit down before the baby makes her way in here, she’ll tackle you,” Tara says from her spot on the couch. She sounds tired, worn down.

Rosita has to physically shake herself before she moves into the living room, settling down in a recliner. “I don’t really know what’s happening.”

“Easy,” Tara yawns, shifting to face the hunter. “Rick is going to try to convince you not to go back to your leaders and tell them about me.”

“Oh,” Rosita murmurs, picking at the hole in the knee of her pants. “I wasn’t...I can’t go back if I haven’t finished my...”

“He knows that, too,” the wolf stretches again, less popping this time but Rosita knows it won’t matter come moon rise. “He’s hoping he can make you want to stay. Keep me alive and all.”

Rosita frowns suddenly, the thought of Tara dying makes her stomach roll. What the fuck?

Before she can say anything, the sound of thundering steps echo through the house and she has a lap full of vibrating blonde hair. 

“Who are you? What do you do? Are you gonna marry my sissy?” The little girl asks in succession, bouncing the whole time.

“Judith, leave Ralone,” Tara groans, pulling a thrown pillow over her face. 

“Sissy!” Judith shouts even louder, throwing herself onto the disgruntled wolf. “Are you hurting?”

“My head hurts, we need to be quiet,” Tara mumbles, locking her arms around the toddler. “Okay?”

“Okay,” the girl whispers, settling her head in Tara’s chest. “I’m sorry.”

Rosita’s chest fills with an unfamiliar warmth that startles her. Was this affection? For a monster she just met no less.

“Breakfast is ready!” Lori shouts from the kitchen and Tara bounces up with Judith hugged to her chest. 

Rosita giggles softly and Tara blushes and the hunter hates to admit that it makes her heart throb. What is wrong with her? She was a hunter for god’s sake and here she was heart fluttering like a schoolgirl.

“Come on, hunter, Lori’s food is not to be missed,” Tara grins over her shoulder as she carries Judith to the kitchen.

Rosita follows after them, realizing how hungry she was at the scent of fried bacon. When was the last time she had a home cooked meal?

Rosita settles down between Tara and a boy no older than seventeen with a mane of brown hair who she later finds out is named Carl when Judith flings a strawberry at him.

“So, are we going to address the elephant in the room or just stay chill about the hunter at our table?” Carl asks about halfway through the meal making Rosita choke on her orange juice.

“Look, I’m not—I wouldn’t...” Rosita sighs softly, scratching absently at the tattoo that marks her profession.

“It’s okay,” Tara says suddenly, putting a warm hand over Rosita’s fidgeting one. “I know you’re not going to hurt me.”

“How can you know that?” Carl asks, slamming his hand on the table. “How do you know she’s not just going to shoot you when our guard is down.”

Tara shrugs as she contemplates, her hand still warm on Rosita’s. “I guess I don’t, but I just have this  _ feeling.” _

“I don’t know how to explain it, but I just feel good,” Tara hums, squeezing Rosita’s hand. “Like my inner wolf is calm for the first time since my pack was killed.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Rick says, rubbing his face while he starts to laugh, leaving the rest of them confused.

“What’s the joke?” Carl blurts out, face red while Rick continues to laugh. 

“It would appear that Tara has found her true mate,” the sheriff chortles. “My kid’s fated to be with a hunter.”

“I think he’s having a break,” Tara says, her brow furrowed as Rosita stands from the table abruptly. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to go,” she replies, her voice sounding hollow in her ears. “Thank you for the meal.”

Before anyone can say anything she’s darted out the door, her equipment long forgotten as she tears through the forest and into the swamp. 

Was this some sick fucking joke? Her fated was a werewolf. She could never return to normal after this. She would never feel completely right if she wasn’t close to the wolf.

If she was being honest, she already felt the loneliness creeping in. Rosita missed the overly trusting, warm, kind—“FUCK!”

“You okay?” A soft voice asks, the sound making Rosita’s stuttering heart, calm in her chest. “It’s pretty easy to get lost in these swamps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may make this a two shot


End file.
